


Round the Riverbend

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Infidelity, Jealousy, Seduction, Sexual Inexperience, Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 23:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15326322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Jaime is lost on the way to his chambers in Riverrun, but finds his hostess offering to show him the way more interesting.





	Round the Riverbend

**Author's Note:**

> ok so I originally started this for day 3 of asoiaf rarepair week, but then didn't finish it for three goddamn weeks, well done me

Riverrun is a strange place. It's built much like the twists and turns of the Trident it lords over, bending inexplicably and going round in circles and looping back on itself. Jaime Lannister huffs in frustration. He is, not to put too fine a point on it, hopelessly lost.

“Ser Jaime?”

He jumps at first, and then turns to see the lady of the house, the Tullys' firstborn, the young woman whose betrothal has already been secured for years and hence, his lord father told him he should have no interest in. He smiles. “Lady Catelyn,” he says, and watches her bright blue eyes come over a little grey in the low light, hard and steely.

Jaime does not fault her for her reticence. He's certain he's been a right pain the weeks he's been here. He knows Father sent him here for the express purpose of making nice with the younger of the Tully sisters, to further his great Lannister plan, but alas, Jaime can't help but find Lysa Tully unfathomably boring. That seems unkind to the girl, who has done nothing wrong; she is simply shy and sweet and desperate to please him, which she does not realise is exactly what turns Jaime off.

Of course the memory of Cersei's jealous sniping does not help, whining about the possibility she might have to share him with another woman, interspersed with her going on about father's plan to wed her to Rhaegar. _That's different,_ she would insist were she here. _Father wants me to be queen._ But she wants to be queen also.

Jaime huffs in frustration. He would give up everything for Cersei. It's irritating to realise she would not do the same.

Catelyn Tully has not displayed anything like the interest in her visitor as her younger sister has, and that in turn has piqued Jaime's interest. He is used to maids fawning all over him, and caught off-guard, even amused, by one that is maintaining a cool courtesy. It's not that she has no interest at all. In idle moments, he has caught her eye wandering, before she returns to her duties with a faint flush. But she keeps well away, because she thinks – knows – anything else would be improper.

And that makes Jaime wonder what it would take to lead her astray.

Lady Catelyn's eyes dart around the corridors, seemingly nonplussed by his presence. “Your chambers are over in the west wing,” she says, surprising Jaime, who did not know he wasn't in the west wing. “Are you lost?”

He grins at her. Yes, completely, but he won't let on. “I like to walk at night sometimes.” At least, that's what he's always told Father when caught between Cersei's chambers and his own. “It helps settle my mind.”

“Ah.” Catelyn sounds a little annoyed with him, and perhaps he dragged her out of bed.

“Would you care to join me?” he asks, watching how her brow crinkles, making her admittedly very pretty face seem years older. “You look like you could do with some relaxing.”

Her eyes fly up in surprise, and Jaime smothers a chuckle. It seems she have read more into that than he meant. Oh well. “I was on my way to bed,” she says, hands clutched in her velvet skirts.

_I could join you then,_ he considers saying, not because he truly wants to but just to see her blush. He ought to tread more carefully though. He can only imagine Father's reaction if Lord Tully threw him out. “I promise it won't take very long,” he says. He smiles, and outstretches his hand. “Come now my lady, I am a knight.” _Barely_ , he thinks he can see her thinking, but he resolves not to let it bother him. “You would not do me the dishonour of thinking yourself unsafe in my company?”

Catelyn hesitates, but ultimately the inner hostess in her wins out. “Very well then,” she says with a sigh, and she takes his hand. “Where to?”

Jaime simply shrugs. “It's your castle,” he points out, because if he has no idea where he is he's not going to have any idea where to go either.

Lady Catelyn sighs in frustration, her fingers twitching in his grip. “I suppose I am so used to it all, then,” she says, and Jaime tilts his head to the side curiously. Casterly Rock is so grand and ominous, he cannot imagine thinking of it in such a way. “I thought you'd have something you'd want to see.”

“The lady's bed chambers?” Catelyn turns, her hand snapping away from his in a second, and he has to laugh. “A jest, my lady. I mean you no slight.” He pauses. “Nor your sister.”

Strangely, Catelyn averts her eyes at that. Jaime swears he sees a blush colour her cheeks. “Lysa won't be happy if she learns I was with you at night,” she mumbles, and Jaime raises his eyebrows.

“What business is it of hers?” And Lady Catelyn gives him a look of sheer disbelief. Jaime grins. Yes, he knows he is meant to wed Lysa Tully, and Catelyn knows it to, but neither of them is meant to know it yet. Lady Catelyn, ever so proper, won't dare speak of it without permission.

In this moment, Jaime only wishes to tease, but he takes a step closer to the girl. “Why, what do you think your sister will think we've been doing?” he asks. “Does she trust you that little?”

He watches the lady gulp, nervous, but too proud to simply cut her losses and run. Good; this would be boring otherwise. “I should remind you to mind your courtesies, Ser Jaime,” Catelyn tells him coldly. “This is still my father's castle, and he need not give you hospitality.”

“No he doesn't,” Jaime replies. “But if he tossed me out, people would start to wonder why.” When he steps a little further toward Catelyn, her spine stiffens like she might slap him any moment, but she still doesn't move away. Brave girl.

“Are you planning on giving him reason?”

Jaime grins again. “Oh, that depends.”

One more step forward, and Lady Catelyn finally has to move if she doesn't want to be knocked over. That makes it easy for Jaime however; he simply has to follow her and within seconds he has her backed up against the wall, smirking as he looms overhead. Catelyn gawps at him a moment, and then huffs in anger.

“You overestimate my patience, ser.”

“Then scream,” he tells her bluntly. “Call for the guards, and I promise I'll go running with my tail between my legs.” After all, he has no wish to frighten her. Only to get under her skin.

Lady Catelyn hesitates a moment, but then bites her lip and says nothing. Jaime grins wider.

“Or, do you not want me to go? Is that the problem?”

Catelyn lurches forward like she really is about to make a run for it, but he places his arm to the side to stop her. She settles back down easily, although she does glare at him. “You overestimate your charms.”

Hardly. He's been fending off fawning maids since he was three and ten, he thinks he has a pretty solid estimation of his charms. “Maybe so,” he tells her anyway. “I admit, most women don't try so hard to pretend they don't desire me. It's quite admirable, in a way.”

Catelyn turns red, then averts her eye again. “I am betrothed,” she mutters.

“I know,” Jaime tells her. “And the ever good daughter, you wouldn't even look at another man, would you?” She turns even redder, and Jaime sighs to himself. Somehow, he cannot imagine Cersei being so devoted. “How long has it been since Ser Brandon Stark has even come to see you?”

She looks up and glares once more. “And how is that your concern?”

“Oh, I've always been curious,” he tells her.

“They say that killed the cat.”

“You best be careful then.” She simply sighs again, her cheeks pink with stimulation, and she is in fact very pretty when she's angry. Not as beautiful as Cersei, of course, but still. “I don't suppose he's ever touched you?” That makes her redder, and Jaime chuckles to himself. He ought to be careful now. He doesn't want to scare her off. Gently, he presses a finger to the side of her neck, strokes there gently. “No, I wouldn't think so. Men like that, they don't want to spoil their gift before it's opened.” Catelyn freezes when he starts touching her, but to his surprise, she tilts her head back and concedes much more easily than he expected. “I'm sure he has other girls for all that.”

She winces, and Jaime hesitates a moment. Suddenly he feels sympathy for her. It must be as unpleasant for her to think on Brandon Stark bedding other girls as it is for him to think of Cersei bedding Prince Rhaegar. She does want to be loyal, Lady Catelyn, even if said loyalty goes unrewarded.

“Stop,” Catelyn whispers, even though Jaime has stopped moving his fingers already – they're just resting against her skin. There's no conviction in her voice when she says it, and indeed Jaime takes that as his cue to start stroking the skin once more, as gently as you would pet a newborn kitten and it makes her sigh, makes her shudder slightly, makes her tilt her head back against the wall unwittingly. Gods, if he can get a reaction out of her so easily – she really has never been touched, has she?

Jaime's cock twitches in his breeches, and it catches him off guard. He was planning on seeing how far he could push, if he could drive Lady Catelyn to the brink of giving up her honour entirely – but not to actually touch her, not to break his fidelity like that. But now a part of him doesn't want to stop. That frightens him. He's never really _wanted_ a woman other than Cersei before.

“Stop me,” he says, trying to remain the cocky, self-assured cunt who's been hassling her all night, and he doesn't think he manages it. Catelyn's eyes are half-lidded, but between them, she is still glaring.

“What are you trying to do, Ser Jaime,” she whispers. “Make me hate you?”

His mouth crooks to the side. “Is that what you tried?”

She bites her lip once more, and Jaime moves in closer. He leans in, presses himself – presses his cock against her thigh.

Catelyn gasps when she feels him, hot and half-hard against her. She shivers. Her hand grabs his shoulder and squeezes, like she knows she ought to push him away but she doesn't have the strength. “Ser–”

“Shh,” he tells her, sounding more certain than it is. “Enjoy it, my lady. Everyone else in the whole damn world will. Why should you be good if no-one's good to you?”

She hesitates, and while she does Jaime starts gently lifting her skirt up above her knees. Catelyn looks down, eyes going wide with shock. “I promise I won't dishonour you,” Jaime leans in to whisper in her ear. He decides not to let on that it's as much for his sakes as hers. Giving her pleasure is one act of betrayal, but letting her pleasure him... “There are steps between nothing and everything, you know.”

Catelyn gives him a skeptical look, but Jaime supposes he cannot blame her. He doubts she's ever been taught anything about sex other than her septa telling her it's filthy and wrong. Still, she holds her skirt up for him, looking around nervously as he undoes the drawstring of her smallclothes. “Someone might see,” she says, and he scoffs.

“Somehow I doubt it,” he tells her. “This bloody castle has so many crooks and crannies, I doubt anyone's ever been in this one before.” And before Catelyn can argue anymore, he pushes his hand inside and presses a finger against her.

She gasps as he delves into her folds, her body arching from the wall, toward him. Jaime purses his lips together as he explores. She feels different from Cersei: less neat, less symmetrical. His cock twitches again. It does occur to him he still has no bloody idea why he's doing this, why he'd take such a risk, but it's a bit late to stop now.

A callus on the back of his index finger brushes against her little nub, and Catelyn gasps, digging her nails into his shoulder. “Th-there,” she whispers, and Jaime blinks, slightly surprised by her being willing to demand something of him like that. He indulges though, moving his hand up and circling that spot with two fingers, making her moan softly. “You've done this before,” she whispers – less accusingly than he expected, more like a statement of fact. Jaime says nothing.

He switches digits, letting his thumb pleasure her there while his two fingers trace lower, running along her folds. Gods, she's so wet. She's wet as the river itself. He twists his fingers over her entrance teasingly, and she shudders, bucking toward him once more.

She digs her nails in again. “Don't,” she says, and Jaime is surprised to see her eyes open once more, and giving him a stern look. “I-I don't want you to break anything,” she says, almost sheepish.

Jaime cocks his head to the side curiously. Frankly, he's not sure what damage he could do that a good horse ride couldn't also (that's what Cersei told him before he took her maidenhead). Still, if Lady Catelyn doesn't want to take that risk, Jaime won't push her. He returns to circling her nub again, pressing against it firmer and harder, and making Catelyn moan. Her thighs twitch and clutch around his wrist, and as she gets louder Jaime gently presses his spare hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. She makes an irritated noise at that, but he simply raises an eyebrow at her. “Do you want your father to hear you?” And she's too practical not to see the wisdom in that.

It's different than with Cersei. Cersei is always so headstrong, so passionate, so sure of what she wants. It's what Jaime loves about her. Catelyn, she's headstrong and passionate too, but she's also something of a shy maid, wanting desperately but ashamed to take it, not even sure what it is.

Jaime's cock throbs again, as he's torn between lust and guilt. Will Cersei feel so torn on her wedding night? Or will she discard him from her mind completely, in favour of her dragon prince? _She could never; we belong together, two halves of one whole,_ Jaime tells himself. That's what Cersei always tells him.

Catelyn bites his hand, making him jump in shock. Her nails scratch through his tunic as she thrusts against, and Jaime realises this is what it looks like when she comes. Cersei is all shouts and screams, and wild professions of love, but Catelyn seems to be trying very hard to keep quiet, muffling her noises against his palm. He feels her give one last shudder, and then there's a small rush of liquid against his fingers, as she gasps and starts to come down.

Jaime can only stare in wonder.

After a few seconds pause, Lady Catelyn starts to recover her wits, and blushes wildly at the position she's in. She pushes Jaime's hand away, and hurriedly pulls her skirt back down, starts running her fingers through her hair. _If her father saw her now,_ thinks Jaime.

Catelyn coughs, trying to regain her composure. “Ser Jaime,” she says, every inch the hostess once more. “I hope you do not require assistance finding your chambers? It's very late, and I would like to go to bed.”

Jaime does not answer, simply licks his fingers clean of her, tasting something so much like Cersei and yet, so different. Catelyn blushes and looks away. Jaime doesn't want to let her go. He wants her. He wants to come. He wants to fuck her right here in the middle of these bloody corridors that go nowhere and everywhere. He wants to have someone else in his register of women he's fucked at the end of his life, like Cersei will have her silver prince.

But he won't, he would never, he made a vow. Besides, it's been established she's not the Tully sister he's meant to end up fucking.

Catelyn doesn't wait for an answer in any case; she just takes a deep breath and extracts herself from the wall. Jaime stands aside quickly. He watches as she leaves, still deeply embarrassed, hair mussed, walking a little off-kilter – but there might just be a hint of pride in her step, a smugness that she did something for herself, for what might be the first time in her life.

Jaime smiles a little, since she's not looking. He can't deny he finds her interesting.

The problem is, once she's gone there's nothing left. She's not there, Cersei's not there. It's only him, lost and hard in this foreign castle that twists and turns its way to the water, with no idea where to lay his head.

 


End file.
